


No Regret

by AlexKingOfTheDamned



Series: Shieldhawk Stuff and Things [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, First Time, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/AlexKingOfTheDamned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki's much too busy for the Avengers today. Maybe if he can distract (arouse) Steve, the rest of the team will be powerless without their leader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Regret

**Author's Note:**

> I ticked dubcon just in case people have a problem with "sex pollen" type stories. But rest assured, Steve is very much consenting.

Chasing Loki is routine at this point, but the Avengers can’t exactly _not_ , as much as they might like to let the police have a turn.

 

This time, though, it seems like Loki has a genuine purpose, somewhere he’s trying to get. As opposed to his commonly unfocused chaos, and general glee in the chase itself. Today he’s made concerted efforts to ditch the Avengers, who always manage to regroup and get on his tail just before he can lose them altogether. He’s blasted Tony with a spell to turn Jarvis into a vulgar French voice to try and disorient him, gave Mjolnir wings and autonomy to try and deter Thor, even transformed Natasha’s lower half into a snake, but nothing seems to be slowing them.

 

As a last-ditch effort, he blasts Steve, the leader, with a powerful spell. If he can stop the leader, maybe the group will fall apart. Steve tries to dodge the spell, but it hits him full-force in the gut, and he’s knocked off his feet by the power of it. Floored and coughing as sensation rockets through him, he curls in on himself with a moan while Loki continues his escape.

 

"Cap!" Clint calls out as soon as Steve is hit, not hesitating, or really thinking, as he runs over by his side, crouching down next to him, trying to help him up. "Shit.." He grumbles to himself, trying to contact the other's though the comm. "Hey, Steve got hit, someone should really stay back to keep an eye on him, see if he's alright. Think you guys can handle me staying with him?" He asks anyone who could give him an answer, looking over the soldier with concern.

 

“Do what you gotta do,” Tony answers a moment later.

 

“Vous souhaitez être le seul à rester derrière, pede!” Jarvis says.

 

“Sorry about him,” Tony mutters, and then his line goes dead.

 

“Clint,” Steve says raggedly, grabbing onto his forearm with a vice grip that might even bruise. He looks up at the other man, yanking his mask off with his free hand and flinging it aside. It felt like it was suffocating him.

 

Clint doesn't seem bothered by Steve's tight grip, more concerned about the other's condition. He takes a hold of his arm with both of his hands, trying to help to pull him on his feet. "Think you're safe to stand?" He asks. "We probably shouldn't hang in the middle of the street, c'mon."

 

“No, no,” Steve pants, immediately falling to his knees after Clint tried to settle him on his feet. “No, can’t, I can’t.”

 

Eventually Clint manages to hobble Steve over to an alleyway to give them some kind of safety and privacy while he looks him over. Steve slumps against the alley wall and slides down helplessly to the dirty ground with a moan of pain.

 

His face is flushed bright pink, sweat on his brow, his whole body shaking from head to toe. He looks like he’s in a great deal of pain, and Clint almost starts to check him for injuries, until he watches Steve’s hips roll, and that’s when he sees it. The bulge to end all bulges, stifled in the skin-tight material of Steve’s suit.

 

“Clint,” he pants, staring up with foggy eyes.

 

Clint can feel his face grow hot as he catches himself staring, clearing his throat as his eyes snap away from Steve's bulge to meet his eyes. "Uhm…" He licks over his lips, not wanting to make the first move, because even though its painfully obvious that Steve is aroused, he still doesn't know if he does have any injuries or not. "Yeah?" Oh, if the other man's hard on wasn't enough, the lust-filled look in Steve's eyes did something to him for sure. "Yeah, what's up?" He asks, trying to keep his composure.

 

For all the good keeping their ongoing relationship secret did, it’s not like their “relationship” consisted of much past sweet little dates that never felt like dates anyway because they had to keep it looking casual in case any press were nearby watching them. After one mishap on a couch weeks ago when kissing turned into grinding and Clint barely managed to notice Steve’s red flags before the other man stayed quiet to let him have his wicked way with him, they haven’t gotten intimate since.

 

Thirteen weeks into a relationship is definitely the longest time Clint has ever waited before having sex with a partner. Granted, none of his partners have ever been pure as the driven snow.

 

That snow appears to have melted now, though, looking at Steve now. A vision of heated desire, his hips buck up helplessly. He tosses his head back, his vision sparking as his head makes contact with the brick wall behind him.

 

“Touch me,” he says, voice jagged and breathy.

 

Clint lets out a heavy breath. Just hearing that sends him up a wall on its own. "You want..." He glances down at Steve's groin, which was obviously in need of some attention, gesturing to it. He has to be sure.

 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” Steve pants, arching up off the wall. “Need- need it, I need it, need it, it’s too- too much I need it I need you Clint please need you.”

 

Clint responds with a low groan, pressing his lips roughly to Steve's, almost hungrily. His hand slides up the inside of Steve's thigh, before over the hardened bulge straining against the tight fabric of his suit. His palm rubs over the clothed erection in circles, alternating between light, pulsing squeezes, and long, firm strokes.

 

He can't believe he's about to have his way with Steve in some shady alley, and it's even harder to believe he might end up taking Steve's virginity in some shady alley. This is much different than he had imagined, but Steve's need is driving him absolutely crazy in every positive way.

 

Steve continues to repeat the word “please” over and over against Clint’s lips, sucking on them, lost in pleasure. It’s a good thing they’re deep enough in the alley and around a corner, because even if they were in plain view of the passersby, it’s pretty clear that Steve isn’t moving any time soon.

 

Legs spread wide, hips angled up, bottom flat on the cold asphalt, Steve might as well be lying on a plush mattress the way he’s moaning. Clint has to cup one hand over Steve’s mouth to muffle his cries of pleasure, they’re getting so loud.

 

This only seems to spur Steve on more as he rocks his hips frantically against Clint’s touch, eyes rolling back into his head. If he were in his right mind he might be embarrassed, but if he were in his right mind, they probably wouldn’t be having sex in an alley.

 

"Fuck." Clint grumbles as he reaches the problem of taking Steve's suit off, realizing it was all one piece. It'd be so much easier to tear it, and at this point he doubts that the condition of his suit is even on Steve's mind. "Hold still, I don't wanna cut you." Clint warns as he moves his hand from Steve's crotch to the inside of his thigh, holding it open as his other hand reached back to his quiver, pulling out an arrow, and cutting a hole in a section of somewhat loose fabric in Steve's suit, using his hand to rip it open even further.

 

He pulls Steve's cock out of the new hole in the crotch of his suit, his hand wrapping around it. His thumb rubs along the swollen head a few times, before giving Steve a few good pumps. His hand moves down to the base of Steve's length as he leans down, making eye contact as his tongue drags along the sensitive head, licking up the precome that had begun to leak out.

 

Steve has the wherewithal to cup his own hand over his mouth at this point, his boots kicking at the ground in helpless bliss.

 

He looks down to the sight of Clint’s lips taut around his cock, and a spark shoots up through him. Distantly, he realizes that they’re doing this, this is happening here, now, in an alleyway, for the first time.

 

However, nothing but delight fills Steve besides that fact. He realizes that he could make love to Clint in a cardboard box for the first time and he’d still be happy, because it’s about his feelings for Clint, not about time spent to perfect an atmosphere.

 

And he _needs_ Clint right now. Clint senses his desperation, and he’s taking care of Steve.  He bucks his hips up again, driving himself deeper into Clint’s throat with a muffled wail.

 

Clint gags slightly around the other man's cock as he feels him push further in his throat, his muscles contracting lightly around him. His eyes roll back as he lets out a groan, feeling his own erection twitch in his pants from excitement, pressing almost painfully against the strained zipper of his pants. He knows he has to give his cock attention soon, but he's just so into pleasing Steve, enjoying every last second of it.

 

He eventually pulls off of Steve, gasping for air, fumbling with the front of his pants as he desperately tries to free his cock. Once he does get his pants undone, he wastes no time to kick them, along with his underwear, right off over his feet, not even bothering to spend the time to take his boots off.

 

He climbs on top of Steve' straddling his lap, his cock pressed up against his stomach, rolling his hips to try and create some friction to sooth the throbbing in his groin. "Fuck…" He mumbles, his hands tangling in the back of Steve's hair, tugging slightly. "I need you to fuck me…" He nearly growls, already panting hard, looking almost as needy as Steve at this point.

 

“Yes,” Steve agrees, huffing. “Yes, yes, Clint, yes.”

 

He loops an arm around Clint’s waist and pins him to his chest. Wriggling, Clint discovers that Steve’s grip is so tight that he is fixed firmly in place with no chance for escape. His face in Steve’s neck, he can only hear the lascivious sucking sounds of Steve’s fingers in his own mouth.

 

Whatever shyness Steve might have had about homosexual sex once upon a time, it seems to leave him now as he swirls his soaked fingers around Clint’s pucker and then pushes one inside without any hesitation.

 

Clint lets out a low groan of pleasure as he feels the first finger enter him, pushing back against it as best as he possibly could while pinned against Steve. "Steve…" He moans out, his chest already heaving with heavy pants.

 

So eager for it, Clint is open enough for two fingers in very little time at all, Steve’s thick, inexperienced digits scissoring clumsily into him, arching deep, flickering around restlessly, always just short of putting any consistent pressure on Clint’s prostate.

 

"Deeper, go deeper." Clint begs Steve, needing more stimulation, wanting to feel even more pleasure. He tries to angle his hips to make it easier for Steve to find his prostate, but the tight grip he has around Clint makes it a bit difficult. "Ah, fuck, you almost had it, you almost-" He's cut off by a loud moan, which he attempts to muffle by pressing his face into Steve's neck. "Yes, yes, right there!" He gasps out, his body jerking and shuddering in pleasure as Steve finally gets it just right. "Please, please, shit, Steve, more!"

 

Steve drives his fingers into that spot relentlessly to make Clint writhe with pleasure, still stapled to his chest by the sheer force of Steve’s strength. Two fingers turns into three until Clint is open and sloppy and wet.

 

So lost with it, Steve hardly has time to recognize the fact that he’s removing spit-sticky fingers and replacing them with his drenched cock. The glide into Clint is long and slow, both of them letting out a groan. When Clint is fully seated in Steve’s lap, it hits him that Steve just gave his virginity to this man, and affection fills him.

 

His other arm wraps around Clint’s waist, fastened even more firmly to the front of Steve’s body, as the soldier sets into a pace right away. The magic surging through him demands faster, faster, and he ruts into Clint’s body like it’ll save his life. 

 

Clint doesn't even attempt to control the moans that leave his mouth, much too focused on squirming underneath Steve's tight hold which is making trying to ride him quite the challenge. After not much thought, he's perfectly fine with Steve pounding in and out of him, though he’s still trying to meet his hips with every thrust. His nails dig into the soldier's still-clothed biceps so hard that it ends up tearing the fabric slightly, but like hell he can even manage to think about caring in that moment. His mind is a blur, feeling nothing but absolute pleasure as Steve drives into him deeper with each thrust. His cock is pressed between both of their stomachs, each one of Steve's movements causing his hard abs to brush up against it, only adding to Clint's pleasure.

 

Seconds blur together into minutes before Steve loses steam, his hips finally starting to feel a bit achy. Instead of stopping their lovemaking, he hands the reins over to Clint. He slides over to lie flat on his back on the asphalt, giving Clint carte blanche on the pace. If he wasn’t already lying down, he’d be floored by Clint’s enthusiasm.

 

As soon as Steve lets go of his tight grip around Clint's waist, he takes no time to start grinding and rolling his hips against Steve's, the other man sliding in and out of him as he rode him at the same pace which Steve was previously thrusting up into him with. He rests his hands on Steve's chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, showing no signs of slowing. His back is arched and head tilted back, mouth hung open as gasps and moans of pleasure spill out, praising Steve for how good he feels, and how big he is. 

 

Honestly, Clint is surprised himself that he's even able to form sentences at this point his mind is a haze. He knows he's not going to last too much longer, but like hell he's going to allow himself to finish before Steve.

 

Clint barely hears the crackle of his comm. unit coming to life, but he couldn’t miss Natasha’s voice for anything.

 

“Barton,” she says, and Clint’s mouth snaps shut. “Report, how is the Captain? Is he okay?”

 

Much to Clint’s dismay, Steve is so lost within the throes of the spell that he doesn’t even notice his lover’s plight, and continues to pound up into him.

 

His eyes widen as he tries his hardest to control the noises coming from him, trying to quiet his panting. It's a hard task to do considering Steve is pounding right up against his prostate.

 

"T-Tasha!" He stutters, breathing hard through his noise, choking back a moan. "Yeah, uhm. I'm uh. Nothing… nothing seems to critical he's just uh," He clears his throat, gritting his teeth as he holds back another moan. "Ah! Having- having a hard time standing and can't, ah, his his head is a bit fuzzy is all. I'm. I'll call for help if if I need it."

 

“You sound like _you’re_ having a hard time,” Natasha says, distantly Clint can hear Jarvis shouting in French. “Are you sure everything is okay? What happened to him, what was the spell?”

 

"No, no I'm fine!" He ends up letting out what sounds like a squeak, clearing his throat again. "We're uh, we're not sure yet, I'll get back to you on that...!" His jaw tightens and his face is nearly completely red from trying so hard to keep his moans down.

 

Natasha’s quiet for a moment. “Is that right,” she says, sounding suspicious. “Are you sure you don’t need me to double back and help out? I’m sure I could be of assistance.”

 

"I'm sure, I'm positive just-!" He finally lets out a small groan, his face heating up further with embarrassment. "No, Tasha, I, no, I don't need help." He says, sounding rushed.

 

Clint can _hear_ her eyes narrow it’s so obvious. “If you’re sure. I’ll be on standby. One call away, Barton.” She’s silent for a moment before saying, “Can I hear from Rogers? I’d like vocal confirmation he’s okay.”

 

"No! No, you can't he's, he's…." He looks down at Steve, seeing that he was obviously in no condition to be speaking. "He's not, aah.." He bites his lip, holding back a moan that rolls from the back of his throat. "He's not really with it right now…"

 

“Report back to me as soon as he’s in proper condition again, then. Romanoff out.”

 

It’s a blessing that she cut the comm. when she did, because no sooner does she hang up than the wind is knocked out of him as he’s thrown suddenly on his back, and Steve takes control again. He cradles one hand under the back of Clint’s skull to keep it off the dirty pavement, and the other palm lays flat on the ground on the other side of his head.

 

When the cadence of Steve’s hips increases again, he has to move his hand from the asphalt to cover Clint’s mouth this time, or people on the street would have been able to hear him.

 

He stares down at his lover, his mind smeared from one end of the city to the other, his whole body vibrating with the strangest breed of affection he’s ever experienced. He wants, in equal parts, to wrap Clint in a tender embrace and whisper to him all the loving words in the universe, and also to fuck him blind deaf and dumb.

 

Clint shudders and trembles underneath Steve, his hips rolling back to meet Steve's with every movement. His loud moans are muffled by the other's large hand, breathing hard through his nose, his chest heaving.

 

He reaches his hand down, wrapping it around his own length, pumping himself in time with Steve's thrusts. Surprisingly, this is the best fuck he's hand in a long time, and it's in the middle of the city in a dirty alley.

 

Neither of them is sure who comes first, it’s so close. Clint shouts into Steve’s palm as he pumps himself into the other man, and barely has the discretion to cup his hand to catch his own release so it doesn’t splatter all over his uniform. _That_ would be hard to explain to the others.

 

Steve catches himself on his elbows before collapsing on top of Clint. Head bowed, quivering with aftershocks, Steve opens his bleary eyes and looks at Clint like he’s the only thing that exists in the world.

 

“Wow,” he whispers, voice wrecked.

 

It takes Clint a while to catch his breath, laying boneless on the hard pavement beneath him for a good few minutes. "Shit…" He finally manages to pant out, along with a chuckle. "That wasn't exactly how I planned our first time to be, but shit, I'll take it."

 

Steve laughs hoarsely. “It’s not so bad,” he says softly, kissing Clint’s jaw. “I’m definitely not going to look back on this with disgust that’s for sure. I’m sorry it happened so suddenly though.”

 

Gently, he pulls out of Clint. Dragging him close, still huddled on the cold pavement of an alleyway, he feels as though he’s on top of the world. Because it doesn’t matter _where_ they made love. It could have been in a bathtub, or on a couch, on the kitchen counter, in Clint’s bed or on Steve’s weight table. What matters is that they made love at all. Steve has been shy for quite some time now, terrified to get it wrong, and he was afraid they would never make it to the next step. The spell, while it makes most of the finer details a little on the fuzzy side, emboldened Steve, and now he won’t have to be afraid to make love to his devoted boyfriend from now on.

 

Steve could almost thank Loki for it. _Almost._

 

Clint relaxes against Steve, allowing himself to be pulled into the embrace. He returns the gesture, his arms wrapping around Steve's broad shoulders, burying his face in Steve’s neck, mumbling something that Steve can't quite make out against his skin. He pulls back after a few moments, giving Steve's back a pat. "We should figure out something soon. People are gonna start getting suspicious. I actually think Tasha already is."

 

“Natasha? What about?” Steve stands up a little wobbly legged and has to use the wall as support to keep from falling over.

 

Clint glances around in search of his pants, before picking them up and brushing them off. "I don't know if you noticed, but she kind of tried to get a hold of me. I wasn't exactly the greatest at hiding the fact that I was riding you like a horse." He kicks his boots off to make it easier to slip his underwear and pants on, looking up at Steve. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. Even if she does know, she'll keep her mouth shut. It'll just be… awkward, to say the least." He ties up his boots, standing up, a bit weak in the knees himself.

 

Steve’s face lights up. “She- seriously?” shame fills him as he realizes he must have been pounding Clint relentlessly while he was on the comm., and he was so out of it he didn’t  hear a word. “Gosh I’m- wow, I’m sorry,” he mutters as he picks a bit of debris out of Clint’s hair from being thrown to the alley floor.

 

He takes a step back and clears his throat, puffs out his chest and exaggerates his tone. “Well, Barton, I’d say you fixed me up well, but after that errant spell of Loki’s I sure am mighty tired. I think it’d be best for my health if I returned to the tower for some R & R.”

 

"I dunno Cap." He says, dusting off his pants. "I should probably go back with you to make sure you get there safely. Who knows if the spell might hit you again, we wouldn't want you to just be laying in the street." He suggests with a smirk.

 

Steve mirrors the smirk before it softens into a smile again, and he cradles the back of Clint’s neck, drawing him forward into a gentle kiss, such a strong contrast to the frantic lovemaking of just a few moments ago that it mellows the entire atmosphere of the alley.

 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. He takes Clint’s hand and they make their lazy way back to the tower. Clint’s call to Natasha lasts less than 30 seconds when he tells her that Steve needs to be watched over after nearly having his “limbs sever from his body” and that she shouldn’t be worried about the way he sounded while he was struggling to push Steve’s arms back into his shoulders. She doesn’t buy it for a second, but she’ll let them try to keep up the veneer that they aren’t together for as long as they can.


End file.
